In, lady, to thy bower! fast weep The noon was sultry, long the chase, And when the wild stag stood at bay, BURBEK reflected from its face The purple lights of dying day. Through many a dale must Musgrave hie, But twilight deepens,-o'er the wolds No ready vassal rides in sight; He blows his bugle, but the call Roused echo mocks; farewell, to-night, The homefelt joys of Eden-hall! His steed he to an alder ties, His limbs he on the green-sward flings; And, tired and languid, to his eyes Woos sorceress-Slumber's balmy wings. A prayer, a sigh, in murmurs faint, The Ave to his patron saint, The sigh was to his lady fair. "T was well that in that Elfin wood Scarce had the night's pale Lady staid The slumberer from his trance awoke. Stiff stood his courser's mane with dread, Yet calmly shone the moonshine pale On glade and hillock, flower and tree; And sweet the gurgling nightingale Poured forth her music, wild and free. - Sudden her notes fall hushed; and near Flutes breathe, horns warble, bridles ring — And in gay cavalcade, appear The Fairies round their Fairy King. Twelve hundred Elfin knights and more And each a diamond lance displayed. And pursuivants with wands of gold, And minstrels scarfed and laurelled fair, Heralds with blazoned flags unrolled, And trumpet-tuning dwarfs were there. Behind, twelve hundred ladies coy, On milk-white steeds, brought up their Queen, Their kerchiefs of the crimson soy, Their kirtles all of Lincoln-green. Some wore, in fanciful costume, A sapphire or a topaz crown; And some wore masks, and some wore hoods, With all gay tints the darksome shade Their steeds they quit ;-the knights advance, Where'er they trip, where'er they tread, "The dance lead up, the dance lead down, The dance lead round our favourite tree; If now one lady wears a frown, A false and froward shrew is she! “There's not a smile we Fays let fall But swells the tide of human bliss; And if good luck attends our call, 'Tis due on such sweet night as this : "The dance lead up, the dance lead down, The dance lead round our favourite tree; If now even Oberon wears a frown, A false and froward churl is he!" Thus sing the Fays;-Lord Musgrave hears Their shrill sweet song, and eager eyes The radiant show, despite the fears That to his bounding bosom rise. But soft! the minstrelsy declines; The morris ceases, sound the shaums; And quick, whilst many a taper shines, The heralds rank their airy swarms. Titania waves her crystal wand, And underneath the green-wood bower, Tables, and urns, and goblets stand, Metheglin, nectar, fruit, and flower. "To banquet, ho!" the seneschals Titania by her king, each knight Beside his ladye love; the page Behind his scutcheoned lord,—a bright Equipment on a brilliant stage! The monarch sits;-all helms are doffed, They ply their cups with mickle pride. Or sparkling mead, or spangling dew, With "nod, and beck, and wreathed smile," A minstrel dwarf, in silk arrayed, And whilst a page at Oberon's knee "Health to our Sovereign! fill, brave boy, ""T was wrought within a wizard's mould, When signs and spells had happiest power;— Health to our king by wood and wold ! They rise the myriads rise, and shrill The wild wood echoes to their brawl,— "Health to our king by wold and rill! Health to our queen in bower and hall!" A sudden thought fires Musgrave's brain,— And snatches up that goblet bright! With three brave bounds the lawn he crossed, The fourth it seats him on his steed; "Now, Luath! or thy lord is lost Stretch to the stream with lightning speed! 'Tis uproar all around, behind,— Leaps to his selle each screaming Fay, "The charmed cup is fairly tined, Stretch to the strife,-away! away!" As in a whirlwind forth they swept, The green turf trembling as they passed; But, forward still good Musgrave kept, – The shallow stream approaching fast. |